
lesentnof 




Class -PS 3,:^ .^1 




t!Dfie Hegentr of iHultnomaf) Jf alls 



legenb of Jttultnomajj Jf alls( 




BY 



B>usisin WUHamion ^mttf) 



We are told by the Indians this Legend ; 

How Pestilence, Sickness and Woe left the tribe ; 

But Valor, Glory, Power were lost them forever more. 




PORTLAND, OREGON 

THE IRWIN-HODSON COMPANY 

1905 



COPYRIGHTED 1905 

BY 

MRS. SUSAN W. SMITH 









ISebitateb 



TO 



ELIZABETH TOWNE 
LISCHEN M. MILLER 
J. T. SHELTON 

The triumvirate of friends who are in part 
responsible for the thoughts herein expressed. 




jforetdorb 

HE GREATEST of all the cascades 
that beautify the magnificent cliiFs of 
the Upper Columbia is ^* Multnomah 
Falls." The water dashes fearlessly, 
boldly down a precipice eight hundred 
feet high, and then, as if exhilarated by the leap, 
takes another (forty foot) plunge. To a lover of nature, 
this cascade alone would more than repay the long 
journey across the continent. The waters are con- 
stantly supplied by the melting snow and are as clear as 
crystal. Through the beautiful crystal white spray one 
sees the grey rocks and boulders, covered with every tint 
and shade of nature's green ; here and there a bit of brown, 
and yellow, and red ; of moss, and fern, and flower, the 
tall fir trees lovingly sheltering all, ever pointing the way 
to heaven — a scene never to be forgotten. 

The only regret is that one cannot with words depict 
one -thousandth part of the beauty, the charm, of such a 
scene. It beggars even the artist's brush. All the cliffs 
and falls of the Columbia are rich in Indian legendry and 
enchantment, and each has its pretty tragic story. There 
are several about ** Multnomah Falls." I like best 
the one I have chosen for the theme of the following 
poem. It illustrates so perfectly the fact that all the 
cruelty of man to man has been the outcome of acting 
under strong excitement, usually caused by some person 
or persons, for selfish purposes : That God speaks to 
man only when he meditates '^ In the Silence." 



Cfje Hegenti of ilultnomai) Jf allsf 

The tom-toms beat! The night is wild! 
The storm is fierce ! The winds 
Are singing nature's requiem. 
A soul returns to God. 




The Great Spirit is angry. 

He has hidden his face 

From his children. With his love 

The light has gone. Sorrow, 

Sickness^ pestilence, and death 

Have come to the tribe, once 

Mighty and great in the love 

Of him they have angered : their God. 



So tom-toms resound! 

And the chief of the tribe. 

The medicine men, the seers, 

The prophets, are in council assembled. 

They plead for mercy in vain. 

This time as a sacrifice, 

A pure maiden is demanded. 

No earthly sin must stain her brow — 

Innocence her crown of thorns! 

Zeal and Love Divine must form her cross, 

And the spear thrust in her side 

The pestilence of her people. 




Have we Christians the only God? 

Did the Father not give his love 

To any of his children 

Ere Christ came to save ? Were all 

Of the millions of souls who lived 

Upon this beautiful earth, 

Were they all — all lost? Forever damned? 

Do Christians dare question 

The mercy of God, 

Who has been worshipped 

From the beginning 

And will be until the end? 




Heathens — we are taught to call them — 
To their Father, the " Great Spirit," have 

come; 
With sorrow and grief they are laden. 
Will He not listen to them ? 
The seers see a vision ! 
The prophets hear a voice ! 
Has it not ever been so with 
The suffering children of men ? 
" God demands a sacrifice ! 
One for the many slain/' 




The Great Spirit has heard 

Their prayers. The seers, the prophets 

Have spoken. But where can 

A maiden be found. 

Innocent, pure, and saintly, 

A willing sacrifice ? 



When, when, ye children of men. 
Will ye understand the Father? 
When will ye keep the golden rule — - 
Live the wondrous Love Divine ? 
When comprehend that each one 
Must have his Gethsemane, 
Must bear his cross, his burden — 
Not sacrifice his brother ? 
When will the church this lesson teach? 



When will humanity hearken 
To this truth — that love supreme, 
Joy, peace, good will, is the birthright 
Of all who so liveth. 



After the storm the peaceful calm 
Tired Nature has fallen asleep 
And rests. Her dreams of joy, 
Of love, of peace, are reflected 
O'er hill, vale, and river. 




Drink in, my soul, this beautiful scene, 
Dwell in my heart forever. 
A cliff magnificent, sublime. 
Looks down on a mighty river. 
Solemn it stands in its grandeur. 
The river, in peaceful repose, at rest. 
In the light of the harvest moon 




o 



Smiles to itself with pride as it notes 

The picture so fair on its bosom — 

Of quiet dell and shady nooks, 

Dimpled 'tween crags and rocks ; 

Of lofty peaks ; of the 

Proud, magnificent mountain 

All its own — by the law of reflection. 




Soft, yet clear, I hear a voice 

That whispers unto me. 

Humanity is but the image of God 

Reflected in the River of Life, my dear. 

When hate, passion, the surface rufiles. 

When winds of adversity blow. 

The picture is marred, distorted. 

Lost to view — till Christ 

Calms the tempest with, "Peace! Be still!'' 



Hark ! A soft tread breaks the stillness. 
So light it seemeth part of the silence. 
It is Multnomah, the old chief's daughter. 
She stands in the light of the moon's white 

rays. 
No adornment save her pearly white robe; 
It has caught the silvery light in its folds 
And gleams and shines like the stars. 
So fair, so fair a sight is Multnomah, 
The princess of noble and high degree. 
The pride of the Willamettes is she. 



She stands on the brink of a precipice ; 

Eight hundred feet below 

The river flows, calm, serene. 

She feels no fear ; love, perfect love. 

Is hers for her brethren dear. 

Her pure and lovely spirit illumines 

Her features so fair; she murmurs, 

"Great Spirit, ^The Oracle' has spoken; 

You are angry with my people ; 

You demand a sacrifice of a pure 

An undefiled maiden. Will I, 

Great Spirit, suffice? 

Look into my heart ; only love is there. 

Look into my soul ; only peace. 

Accept me. Dear Father, some token give." 

She folds her hands across her breast, 

She lifts her eyes to heaven. 

One moment her form sways, then falls. 

Who knows what the token given? 





Copyright by T. L. Carland 
MULTNOMAH FALLS 



Behold! A miracle! Her form 

As it falls is changed in a moment, 

"In the twinkling of an eye/' 

To the emblem, to man, 

Of life, purity, spirit. 

And ever adown the mountain side. 

As long as the world shall be. 

This beautiful, crystal white water shall fall 

In memory — in memory. 




The pearly gates swing open ; 
The skies gleam red, blue and gold, 
The reflection of rubies, 
Of sapphires, topaz, pearls. 
Man says, "The sun is rising." 
Short-sighted man. A soul 
Returns to its maker — to the 
Beautiful city above. 




Nature from her repose awakens, 

Beholds the glorious cascade 

All aglow with colors of morn. 

She whispers, "Multnomah." 

The gentle breeze bears the whisper 

Far away to the children of men; 

In their hearts it lives, a sweet dream. 

To guide them to "Multnomah Falls." 







V 



^ .t'fX., ' / ' '**'</' A ^ ' '^ ^V ^ ' LIBRARY OF CONGF 



CONGRESS 

■nil 

018 360 145 3 i 



